


skin hunger

by Orca2



Category: Wings of Fire - Tui T. Sutherland
Genre: Dependency, F/M, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-12 12:33:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9071869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Orca2/pseuds/Orca2
Summary: which would you prefer, lonely or insecure?





	

**Author's Note:**

> this is a little purple prose-y... sorry i just really love peril

Peril stared at her talons blankly as if they had hypnotized her into lulling sleep. No blood was left to dry between the indents of her claws, no red spilled to saturate the unnaturally colored surface of her scales. All traces of violence evaporated when they came into contact with the burning temperature of her parchment. Yet she slouched, tranquilized, as if that seamless patch of skin held any memory. Unstained like the whites of her vicious fangs, which had undoubtably taken hundreds of lives. Which still curved across a wicked smile and sweet nothings.

Rubies and sapphires and endless fortune of precious gems draped the walls of the SkyWing palace, but she'd never touch. Never be _able_ to touch, in fact. Any gold to graze her for as little as a moment would simmer and melt to a puddle of molten lava. No use of extravagances when they'd only wither on contact. No use of beautiful things when mere presence could burst a flower into flames. Her room was nothing more than bare stone and scattered ash to decorate the solidarity of a personal cage. Such rash treatment for the Queen's _Champion_ , if that meant anything at all. 

 Though really, what is a dragon without possessions? What would it mean to melt into the mound of treasure they'd lay upon, unable to call anything their own? Such a creature hardly sounds like a dragon at all.

Vain and terrifying, Scarlet had etched dramatic lines in the sensibility of the hazardous dragonet. Peril's eyes were wide, with what would have been fear had she been disposable, twisting necks and snapping bones to her Queen's rapturous applause. Only Scarlet could love her, cruelty and all. The blazing sun and carpet of blood was it’s own spotlight, in a way.

 

Her wingtips streaked quick across the spires of prison cells, singeing the air with smoke. Daylight poured heavy on her copper shards of firescales, the sun gleaming in a way only a being that consisted solely of condensed heat could appreciate. Peril had already burned numerous dragons and left them to ember within this short time between morning and night, yet she looped the sky in an almost innocent way. In this point of her life, she had long forgone any attempt of keeping track. A grin stitched across her triumphant features, burning blue eyes settling on the dragonet she promised to stay away from, predatory as a snake's.

Scarlet was clever, oh deathly clever, yet never observant. She should have known it’s not _wise_ to leave room for curiousity in underlings.

 

He wasn't particularly gorgeous. No, his muddy brown coating was just as unspectacular as any others. But there was something unnamed in the way he knit his worried brows together, naive and clumsy yet too selfless to make complaints. The MudWing fumbled around his words and got peculiarly emotional about ordinary punishments. Peril leaned from where she had been perched, and supposes it’s kind of adorable. Only a tad.

The following arena battle had been dreadfully underwhelming, and Scarlet scorned her for not drawing out further, having not met her standards of " _thrilling_ ".

Clay seemed to be far past mortified at the simple display, though, his sweet brown eyes hollow with fear as she found her way back to the top of his spire. She couldn't fathom why.

 

And then he’s leaving. He’s off with his friends he’s known longer, leaving her behind in the ruins of what used to be the SkyWing kingdom, with that same oblivious nature of his. She almost grabs his wrist and forces him to stay, or pins his wings so he can’t fly off. No, not now. Not after she'd finally found someone capable of seeing her as more than a monster.

Imagine never being able to touch who you love without hurting them. It sounds like a twisted joke, yet fitting nonetheless.

* * *

Rain pitters above the cave ceiling, and she's more than grateful to be indoors. Her one-track mind spins lucid daydreams of Clay, which is silly considering he'll only be gone for a moment.

She's been told it’s unreasonable to grind her teeth in anger whenever he speaks to someone else. It doesn't feel unreasonable. 

But then it does, because he’s so much kinder. And she's nothing more than a ball and a chain. He deserves to be happy sometimes, she wants to believe but can never convince herself.

  

Imagine a dragon built on copper and malice, who impersonated fire in every waking breath. Gold against bronze, whose to say which is more valuable?

 


End file.
